A Time to Build (Love's Time Book 2) Page 4

He’d learned to ignore hunger pangs. If he disregarded them long enough, eventually they went away.

  “How does a pork sandwich with some fruit sound?”

  “Lovely. After a piece of cake.” Her lips rounded nicely in the corners.

  “Ahh. So you’re that kind.” With a gentle touch on her back, he started them toward the house.

  “What kind?” She angled her head sideways to stare up at him.

  He was a good foot taller than Jillian, but it wasn’t so much his height that made him feel like a giant next to her. It was more the way she’d always looked at him, with a gentle light shining from her eyes, a smile on her lips. As if he flung out a sky full of stars just for her. Thank you, God, that her light still shines, that my leaving didn’t snuff it out.

  “The type of person who eats dessert first.”

  She thought about that for a second, then unleashed those luscious eyes on him, a challenge in her gaze and lofty chin, her charming drawl making one word last as long as four. “Sometimes.”

  If he didn’t know her better, he’d think she was flirting. But she’d never been one to play those kinds of games. Had she changed?

  He had two weeks to find out.

  4

  “You have to clean their water troughs regularly.” Jillian finished scrubbing and then turned on the faucet, the cold water cascading over her fingers. But the liquid did nothing to soothe the heat burning her cheeks from Carson peering over her shoulder, his warm, cinnamon-flavored breath puffing against her neck.

  Why hadn’t she prepared herself for this reaction? She should have known being around him would reignite the spark that had never completely extinguished.

  She coiled into herself. Carson must have noticed because he took a step back.

  Thank You, Lord. Now I can breathe.

  She twisted the knob to stop the flow of water, stretched and turned around.

  Carson was edging close to Jumbo, his hand reaching up to pet the llama’s face. He must have forgotten that Jumbo was the mischievous one. “You probably don’t want to get too close to—”

  A hiss. Then some awful stuff spewed from the llama’s mouth, slamming Carson all over his face.

  Uh oh. She groaned. “—Jumbo. He spits.”

  “I could have used that warning about two seconds ago.” Carson spoke through closed lips. Slime covered his face and began dripping onto his shirt. “So that’s what Cam meant. What’s the best way to extricate myself from this rascal’s lack of good manners?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” A laugh erupted from her belly, and she gave in to it, laughing so hard, she hugged her middle. She couldn’t help herself. The release felt freeing, unshackling her spirit from the chains that had held it captive for so long.

  But then, being around Carson had always managed to bring out her laughter. She’d forgotten.

  “I’m glad someone thinks this is hilarious. When you’re done, I could use a little help here.” His deep tone held amusement, not even a trace of anger.

  She glanced over at him, trying desperately to get a grip on her mirth, but the poor guy still stood there, stiff as a statue.

  And Jumbo hadn’t retreated either. The big, misbehaving lug tilted his head back farther and pressed his ears flat against his neck.

  Uh oh. Carson was about to get blasted again.

  “How fast can you move?” Humor still lingered in her voice.

  “Why?” Carson jerked his head toward her.

  “Because he’s getting ready to do it again.”

  A shrill alarm started from the base of Jumbo's throat.

  Carson turned, and his long legs managed two giant leaps before the crud exploded against his back.

  “Argh!” Arching his back, he waved his hands in the air.

  Was he surrendering? To a llama?

  She bent over, the giggles overwhelming her again.

  Suddenly, an arm settled under her legs and another pressed against her back, scooping her off the ground.

  “Wh..what are you doing?” She sputtered, wrinkling her nose at the stench, leaning as far away from him as she could within the confines of his arms to keep the crud from spilling over onto her. “Put me down!”

  His only response was to tip his head and rub his nose against hers, spreading the goo all over her face.

  “Ewww!” she screamed.

  “Fair’s fair. Let’s see if Jumbo plays nice with you.”

  “The only reason he wouldn’t is because you’re around.” Jumbo had never spit on her. For some reason, the giant had taken a liking to her and generally behaved himself other than an occasional head butt to her back or shoulder.

  “Really? How about if we test that theory?” His lips curved mischievously. Underneath the gunk.

  He wouldn’t, would he?

  Guess Jumbo wasn’t the only misbehaving one, because Carson continued stalking over to the llama, still cradling her in his strong arms.

  Arms that felt so good, so warm and comfortable. Why did he have to be the one to light a match to this pent-up pining in her heart? Why him? Why not Corbin?

  The earlier laughter died, leaving a mighty powerful ache in her chest, one that she was sure would cripple her for love later.

  As if it hadn’t already.

  Why couldn’t she love Corbin? Corbin wouldn’t break her heart. He would still be here when Carson decided to leave again.

  ****

  What caused that heavy sigh?

  She’d looked like she was having so much fun.

  Carson stared down into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that searched deep enough to recognize the hurt stuffed way down inside of him. Eyes that inspired him to be a better man, to stand up and wrangle his past into submission. Eyes that triggered hope to bubble up inside and stoked a fierce yearning for a future. With her.

  He halted his trek, no longer wanting to play and tease. Only to comfort, to ease the pain, the grief.

  Not just for her. For both of them.

  “I’m sorry, Jillian.” His voice came out gruff. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. Just stood in the middle of the llama enclosure, holding her in his arms, tucked against his chest.

  Her irises flared. A lump bobbled along her throat. She licked her lips.

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  A tear trickled down a creamy cheek. She palmed it away with her hand, her face contorting as she struggled to control her emotions. Finally, with a sniffle, she managed to scrounge up a mock glare and gave his arm a playful swat, her tone light again. “Let me down, you big goon.”

  Okay. So maybe she didn’t want his comfort. Or his apology. Maybe he needed to get it off his chest more than she wanted to hear it.

  His arm slipped away from around her legs while he kept a grip under her arms until her feet landed safely on the ground. The top of her head only reached his shoulders, so her face angled back to peer up at him. He took a deep breath, hoping to fill it with her sweet fragrance of violets and jasmine, but the llama crud remained too strong.

  “Lesson number one. Most llamas don’t like to be petted on their face. Jumbo especially. Actually, Jumbo doesn’t like men, either. Just ask Mason.” Her laugh came out brittle, nervous. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  She didn’t know how often during the last few years he’d gone without a shower, let alone a bathroom or a bed, the few times he’d been between jobs. But he wasn’t about to let her in on that. Some things were better off not mentioning.

  Like how eventually dreams of her had replaced the nightmares.

  Or how, since Lilly’s accident, night after night, he’d struggled to fall asleep, recalling the day’s visit to the hospital. Sitting next to the bed, listening to his friend talk, knowing that she was still there underneath the scars…

  Reinforced that a person’s beauty wasn’t the shell. No, beauty glowed from inside, from the spirit.

  Not that he didn’t know all that before, but
it just confirmed that he’d behaved badly. How Jillian might have mistaken his leaving for rejection, that he defined her by her beauty. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  He followed Jillian through the gate and into the barn, the awful scent of the llama’s intestines cloaking him, reminding him afresh of what a jerk he’d been. How could he have allowed someone as sweet and kind as Jillian to slip through his fingers? And now she was practically engaged to a vet.

  He’d been a fool, chasing after peace, when all along, what he searched for had been right in front of his face. He’d hurt her, damaged their friendship, and destroyed whatever chances they might have had for a future.

  But, if he’d allowed their relationship to progress back then, who knows what might have happened. Where they would be right now. Probably not here. Standing next to each other in a barn, shadows dancing across her creamy complexion.

  Jillian flicked a towel off the top of what seemed to be an enormous stack and handed it to him. Guess he wasn’t the first one to be misused by that cantankerous creature.

  “Thanks.” He swiped it across his face, the fresh, clean scent of the towel wiping the lingering llama crud away.

  Suddenly, a clean shirt dangled in front of him. Arching his eyebrows, he took it from her.

  “Camdon’s always kept a collection here, and now Mason does, too.” Humor sparkled from her eyes as she pointed to an empty basket. “Llama crusted clothes and towels go in there.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank them.” He whipped off the offensive shirt and tossed it in the basket.

  Jillian averted her gaze and cleared her throat. “Not necessary. Just make sure it’s washed and back in the stack to use again.”

  He slipped on the clean shirt and tugged it over his chest. “You mean there’s a next time?”

  “Oh, yeah. You can count on it.” Jillian faced him again, a smile puffing up those ivory cheeks and transforming her eyes to the deepest color of green, reminding him of his trek through a forest in Washington. So peaceful, so serene, he’d considered camping out for a while.

  Just like she made him feel now. Like camping out for a while.

  Before he could catch himself, his knuckles grazed her cheek. So smooth, so perfect. So unlike the scars that disfigured thirty percent of her body.

  Shame socked him in the gut, almost doubling him over in its intensity. What a heel he had been not only to his best friend but to someone he imagined sharing a life together. That is, if his dad hadn’t taught him that families were expendable, that kids were only a bargaining chip.

  Amazing how time—and God—changed perspectives. Now he saw her as perfect, whole and pure. He framed her jaw. “I’m sorry for everything I walked away from, Jillian. But, you wouldn’t have wanted me like I was then, broken and angry at the world.”

  At least she didn’t flinch from his touch. That was a good sign, right?

  “You weren’t angry at the world, Carson. Just the media. And maybe your dad.” Her voice was soft as her hand covered his.

  He nodded and licked parched lips, a sigh heaving from the deepest part of his being. “Yeah. My dad.”

  “Did you really leave because of your dad?” She dropped her hand and tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. A lump slid down her throat. Her gaze dipped to the boot that poked at the dirt floor. “Or because of me?”

  5

  He knew their conversation would eventually come to this. But he still wasn’t ready.

  He took a deep breath. Would she be angry? Never talk to him again?

  “I couldn’t give you what you wanted, Jillian. I knew you wanted more. That you expected us to take the next step, but I wasn’t ready. For marriage.” For a not-so-happily-ever-after. For kids.

  She flicked hair away from her eyes, the movement awkward and swift. “You could have just told me that. You didn’t have to run away.”

  “I was eighteen. I didn’t run away.” A technicality, and he knew it.

  “Didn’t you?”

  Her stony gaze pinned him to the barn floor. He could have slithered into a hay bale and disappeared, but he knew he’d done the right thing, made the best choice, at the time.

  He scrubbed his jaws, the stubble from his beard prickly against his palm. “And what about the three kids you’d always dreamed of having? What about them? I couldn’t give you that dream. Not then.” Maybe not ever. How could he possibly consider bringing children into the world if he carried the same genetics as his father?

  “It didn’t have anything to do with my scars?” Her wide eyes lifted to meet his, vulnerable and transparent. Raw.

  “I won’t lie.” He swallowed back the heavy emotion clumping in his throat. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not then and not now. Oh, God, I don’t want to hurt her. Please heal us both. “At the time, I was young and stupid. I couldn’t deal with any of it.”

  Big fat tears tracked down her cheeks. She nodded, swiping away the moisture with a palm. She turned, but he caught her wrist and gave her a gentle tug back.

  “Don’t go,” he pleaded.

  “Why? So I can stick around for the next blow? I don’t think so.” She jerked out of his grasp, recoiling from his touch, retreating to a place where his words couldn’t hurt her.

  He had to stop her from withdrawing permanently. The only way he could accomplish that was to show her raw honesty, to reveal the depths of his turmoil, the level of despair. Until God had made him do an about face.

  “What if I’m just like my father?” Pain made his voice hoarse.

  Her steps faltered, and she turned around, framed by the barn opening. Sunlight spilled into the barn, emphasizing her curves and glinting off her blonde hair, casting an angelic glow about her.

  He sucked in a breath. He’d known she was beautiful. But he’d never realized how much.

  It had taken him thirteen agonizing years to get to this point. To reach deeper than the surface wounds, to recognize beauty in every living thing.

  “You are not your father, Carson. Nor will you ever be.” Her words were firm, unbending. Full lips, lips that he remembered all too well to be soft and responsive to his own, clamped together.

  “How do you know? How can you say that? You never knew him.”

  “Because I know you. You’re your own person. The exact person God created you to be.”

  Similar to the words Lilly had spoken, and he was still trying to wrap his brain around them. He really was, but it was such a foreign concept.

  “Your father made his choice, and you’re responsible for yours, just like everyone else. So why did you come back, Carson?” Her voice sounded so quiet, so tiny, so vulnerable.

  He nodded toward the bales stacked against one corner of the cavernous barn, inviting her to join him. He plopped down on one and waited for her to sit.

  She complied, leaving a few feet between them, but it just as easily could be miles that separated them.

  Probably for the best. He might be tempted to reach out and touch her, see if she really were an angel.

  ****

  Did she really want to know?

  Why was she still here?

  Because she was a glutton for punishment. Punishment of the Carson variety. Hadn’t she suffered enough at his doing?

  Straw pricked her palms as she sank down on the bale, leaving a wide berth between them. A sigh came from the man beside her, anguished and soul deep. A horse’s tail swooshed, and then a nicker from a stall in the bowels of the barn.

  She could relate.

  Suddenly chilled, she tucked her icy hands together between her legs, the denim fabric doing little to warm them.

  His voice came out hesitant, unsure. “I was working in Seattle, for a construction firm.”

  That explained the powerful muscles that rippled across his shoulders and along his bare back and arms. Yeah. She hadn’t been able to resist peeking when he changed his shirt. Pathetic.

  “The boss had a daughter. Lilly.”

  O
h. Jillian blinked back a fresh wave of tears that threatened. He was going to confess that he’d fallen in love, and the girl had broken his heart. She closed her eyes, her head wobbling back and forth. Pathetic.

  So he’d just returned home to lick his wounds? He could have done that somewhere else. Why did he have to come back to Harrison? To rip open the wounds of her heart all over again?

  She wasn’t going to sit here and listen to him explain.

  She knew what heartbreak felt like, was all too familiar with that dark place, where hope in love and happily ever after ceased to exist. Her palms braced against the scratchy bale to push herself up, but his hand covered hers, the calluses from hard labor and his gentle touch, stilling her.

  “She might have had a slight crush on me, Jillian, but I’d watched her grow up. She was a kid, just turned eighteen, and I wasn’t remotely interested in her that way. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Honesty gleamed from his eyes, casting doubt on her assumption.

  She nodded.

  “As soon as she was old enough to drive, she’d stop by the construction site after school to visit her daddy, almost every day. She lived with her mama, and her parents didn’t get along. Lilly said stopping by in the afternoons was the only way she got to see her daddy…” His voice faded, as if he’d slipped back in time.

  He blinked and swallowed, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, feeling the muscles tighten under her fingers.

  What was she doing? She jerked her hand away.

  “One day after she’d been by to visit, she turned around to wave at her father one last time. She never saw the car coming. Just pulled out right in front of it.” With eyes closed, his head wobbled back and forth. As if he woke after a powerfully vivid nightmare and trying to erase the imagery.

  Jillian gulped, pretty sure she knew where this was going. “That had to be terrifying to see something like that happen right in front of you, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.”

  Moisture rimmed his bloodshot eyes. He nodded.

  “The SUV slammed her right into the gas station next door to the construction site. Her vehicle hit and killed a man pumping gas. It all happened so fast. After the impact, all I could see was fire. So much fire.” With an anguished moan, he dipped his head and buried his face in his hands, shielding his pain from her.